"bewitches" poems
Gone with the wind is his old desire
Bright flowers of love bloom in his spring
Once who ruled his heart’s empire
I’ll die for Rosaline – he no longer will sing
Tenderness of this new flower
Bewitches heart and mind of Romeo
Charm of looks on both sides in power
Lovely Juliet and him, the magnificent duo
Alas! She is nothing but blood of enemy
And he, her enemy’s next of kin
In abstract lies the idea of him to see
To express to Juliet his love, and her heart win
Juliet’s love for Romeo is no less than him
Opportunity to meet her lover, for her more fleet
Infinity of time and power of love come to brim
Rise of sun to meet, overcoming the danger, so sweet
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
Curling tendrils of tobacco haze
engulf the tiny space, hang like
ringlets over shots of whiskey
and mugs of warm beer. A solitary
dancer moves, bracelets janglin’
and eyes heavy with kohl, captures
old men in mid drink as her hips
sway to Nina Simone. Her bronze skin
glistens with the hot stares of the
audience; she soaks it in, twirls on
bare feet in perfect time as the
high priestess of soul bewitches
us with heavy grooves. I close
my eyes, tap fingers against glass,
whisper Nina’s words into the smoke
and breathe them back in again.
This is jazz, I think out loud,
this is pure unadulterated heat.
Jan 5, 2021
Jan 5, 2021 at 9:21 PM UTC
hymn to Apollo
by Michael R. Burch
something of sunshine attracted my i
as it lazed on the afternoon sky,
golden, splashed on the easel of god;
what, i thought,
could this elfin stuff be,
to, phantomlike, flit
through tall trees
on fall days, such as these?
and the breeze
whispered a dirge
to the vanishing light;
enchoired with the evening, it sang;
its voice enchantedly rang
chanting “Night!” . . .
till all the bright light
retired,
expired.
This poem appeared in my high school literary journal, the Lantern, so it was written by age 18, but probably around age 16 or 17. That was my "cummings" period. Keywords/Tags: sun, god, sunshine, Apollo, elfin, phantom, ghostly, magical, enchanted, bright, light, brilliant, sky, golden
Moon Lake
by Michael R. Burch
Starlit recorder of summer nights,
what magic spell bewitches you?
They say that all lovers love first in the dark...
Is it true?
Is it true?
Is it true?
Starry-eyed seer of all that appears
and all that has appeared—
What sights have you seen?
What dreams have you dreamed?
What rhetoric have you heard?
Is love an oration,
or is it a word?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?
I believe I wrote this poem in my late teens, during my “Romantic Period.”
Tomb Lake
by Michael R. Burch
Go down to the valley
where mockingbirds cry,
alone, ever lonely . . .
yes, go down to die.
And dream in your dying
you never shall wake.
Go down to the valley;
go down to Tomb Lake.
Tomb Lake is a cauldron
of souls such as yours —
mad souls without meaning,
frail souls without force.
Tomb Lake is a graveyard
reserved for the dead.
They lie in her shallows
and sleep in her bed.
I believe this poem and "Moon Lake" were companion poems, written around my senior year in high school, in 1976. In addition to having similar titles, they had similar "staircase" indention styles. According to my notes, I modified "Moon Lake" two years later in 1978, at which time the poem was substantially finished. I then modified "Tomb Lake" in 1981, but must have forgotten about it, because I don't show that I ever submitted the poem for publication or did anything with it for more than 40 years. Keywords/Tags: Moon, Lake, Lakes, Water, Reflection, Reflections, Image, Imagery, Mirror, Magic, Magician, Seer, Prophet, Shaman, Spell, Spells, Enchantment, Sorcery, Bewitchment, Bewilderment, Incantation, Rhapsody, Love Talk, Love Potion
Mar 29, 2020
Mar 29, 2020 at 4:20 AM UTC
Moon Lake
by Michael R. Burch
Starlit recorder of summer nights,
what magic spell bewitches you?
They say that all lovers love first in the dark...
Is it true?
Is it true?
Is it true?
Starry-eyed seer of all that appears
and all that has appeared—
What sights have you seen?
What dreams have you dreamed?
What rhetoric have you heard?
Is love an oration,
or is it a word?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?
I believe I wrote this poem in my late teens, during my “Romantic Period.”
Tomb Lake
by Michael R. Burch
Go down to the valley
where mockingbirds cry,
alone, ever lonely . . .
yes, go down to die.
And dream in your dying
you never shall wake.
Go down to the valley;
go down to Tomb Lake.
Tomb Lake is a cauldron
of souls such as yours —
mad souls without meaning,
frail souls without force.
Tomb Lake is a graveyard
reserved for the dead.
They lie in her shallows
and sleep in her bed.
I believe this poem and "Moon Lake" were companion poems, written around my senior year in high school, in 1976. In addition to having similar titles, they had similar "staircase" indention styles. According to my notes, I modified "Moon Lake" two years later in 1978, at which time the poem was substantially finished. I then modified "Tomb Lake" in 1981, but must have forgotten about it, because I don't show that I ever submitted the poem for publication or did anything with it for more than 40 years. Keywords/Tags: Moon, Lake, Lakes, Water, Reflection, Reflections, Image, Imagery, Mirror, Magic, Magician, Seer, Prophet, Shaman, Spell, Spells, Enchanted, Enchantment, Sorcery, Bewitchment, Bewilderment, Incantation, Rhapsody, Love Talk, Love Potion, Romance, First Love, Dark, Dreams
Feb 23, 2020
Feb 23, 2020 at 12:31 AM UTC
Circe
by Michael R. Burch
She spoke
and her words
were like a ringing echo dying
or like smoke
rising and drifting
while the earth below is spinning.
She awoke
with a cry
from a dream that had no ending,
without hope
or strength to rise,
into hopelessness descending.
And an ache
in her heart
toward that dream, retreating,
left a wake
of small waves
in circles never completing.
Originally published by Romantics Quarterly
Keywords/Tags: Circe, enigma, enigmatic, enchantress, siren, enchanted, witch, goddess, magic, Ulysses, pigs, sty
Moon Lake
by Michael R. Burch
Starlit recorder of summer nights,
what magic spell bewitches you?
They say that all lovers love first in the dark...
Is it true?
Is it true?
Is it true?
Starry-eyed seer of all that appears
and all that has appeared—
What sights have you seen?
What dreams have you dreamed?
What rhetoric have you heard?
Is love an oration,
or is it a word?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?
Have you heard?
I believe I wrote this poem in my late teens, during my “Romantic Period.”
Tomb Lake
by Michael R. Burch
Go down to the valley
where mockingbirds cry,
alone, ever lonely . . .
yes, go down to die.
And dream in your dying
you never shall wake.
Go down to the valley;
go down to Tomb Lake.
Tomb Lake is a cauldron
of souls such as yours —
mad souls without meaning,
frail souls without force.
Tomb Lake is a graveyard
reserved for the dead.
They lie in her shallows
and sleep in her bed.
I believe this poem and "Moon Lake" were companion poems, written around my senior year in high school, in 1976. In addition to having similar titles, they had similar "staircase" indention styles. According to my notes, I modified "Moon Lake" two years later in 1978, at which time the poem was substantially finished. I then modified "Tomb Lake" in 1981, but must have forgotten about it, because I don't show that I ever submitted the poem for publication or did anything with it for more than 40 years. Keywords/Tags: Moon, Lake, Lakes, Water, Reflection, Reflections, Image, Imagery, Mirror, Magic, Magician, Seer, Prophet, Shaman, Spell, Spells, Enchantment, Sorcery, Bewitchment, Bewilderment, Incantation, Rhapsody, Love Talk, Love Potion
Mar 28, 2020
Mar 28, 2020 at 4:47 AM UTC
like a siren you are calling me, seducing me
i'm dreaming of your crimson red lips
even the sight of it makes me a saint
i'm dreaming of the way you say my name
even the sound of it bewitches me
i'm dreaming of the way you touch me
even the thought of it gives me bedridden
like a siren you are calling me, seducing me
you are the reason i'm asking myself has anyone jumped off of a cliff and survived?
Apr 20, 2024
Apr 20, 2024 at 7:12 PM UTC
Women are all such beautiful creatures
Transfixing us with their sensual features
Beautifully crafted for the eyes of man
We are hynotised by the wiles of a woman
We love the way that you wiggle
Especially that **** adorable jiggle
And that way you know how to tease
Every man becomes weak at the knees
A lady bewitches us at her own leisure
We become slaves to her very pleasure
For what would we ever do without her
Our species could not go any further
Seeing her in her splender, we rejoice
We respond to the sound of her voice
And with that kiss she will give
It gives us that reason to live
So for women everywhere, we celebrate
For to us very men, you are our fate
We crave to feel your own loving touch
That is why we love you so very much
Sep 4, 2010
Sep 4, 2010 at 4:50 PM UTC
Tonight the freckled sky winked at me,
well that's what I'd like to think
but really it did to all, because the gown
the Moon wears out seduces and bewitches us.
It flirts around with many, a two-timing lover,
and though I'd like to think of me differently
I can't leave this unhealthy relationship,
thus I pretend she's mine to dream and write about.
At times I despise her,
cunning and frigid waiting for me to glance up
at her.
Always out of reach and yet she tells me she's near.
We fight,
I don't see her in the sky for days,
I suffer,
she hides behind the velvety veil of opal clouds
and all I feel are the droplets of my tears.
However, those times don't matter,
I love her unconditionally even while she goes and
lures in another.
Tonight,
her speckle lashes flutter beneath my fingertips
her twinkling lips like sparkling water
her body is chilly from a night of walking
and that's fine,
I'll warm her with my words and caresses,
because tonight belongs to me and no one other.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 10:22 PM UTC
Love, why do you restrain me so?
Your metal manacles are cold and unforgiving
Just like you; and not much can be said
About my weak ankles as well.
Why must you leave me feeling astray
Like a damp labrador in need of a home?
Am I forced to remain street fodder for
The rats and worms in a criminal underworld?
Please release me, or at least
Slice off both of my arms so that
You may keep them, my arms that hoped
To have held you, loved you, written for you;
They shall serve you as a memento
Of a rotting memory in a dark corner
Never to have cherished you so,
But alas! To have cherished you from afar
Was a venture most fulfilling
I had once waited for your warmth
To make my heart of coal dazzle,
Like the diamonds I always saw in your eyes.
God, isn’t it funny how the beguiling wind
Bewitches the leaves to dance for her
Only to be scattered away like trash?
Mar 4, 2010
Mar 4, 2010 at 10:31 AM UTC
wish you were here
in the void between stars
slowly floating in spaces
left between fingers and the night sky
away from hot splashes
of bitter sun
wish you were here
keeping me company on a long winding road
where tree shadows hold each others hands
till the end of nothingness
where birds forget their nests
and are forever lost in blissful amnesia
wish you were here
draped in colours of autumn
fragrances of spring and gusts of rain
in silent chills of winter whiff
hunting like an arctic fox
the no good prey of meekness
wish you were here
on the attic walking on a crazy rainbow
shamelessly fragile
like the love of a baby for a new toy
so pure, honest... yet so
insubstantial
stuck in a fishbowl
ensnared by smiles of the moon
alluring me with chants of professed freedom
life throws darts on a balloon heart
wish you were here
to rid me of fears and lies i tell myself
and you
in times when diamonds doubt their worth
boundaries of satisfaction orphaned by loneliness
wish you were here
with a wingspan of monsoon clouds
to soar over and flood the parched earth
preceded by rhythms of thunder
but here you are
hiding in pillars of laughter
swaying to music of freshness
meant for my hazy eyes to seek
and I dare not dance on orange flower-beds
left behind in your footprints
etched on my imagination
I dare not lead this dance
I will not change the music
and let delirium echo in air surrounding us
for too much of a dream bewitches the sleep
but somewhere in the spaces
left between my fingers and the night sky
draped in colours of autumn
carrying smile of a baby who found his toy
with footprints on which spring grows
just for tonight...
could you walk my rainbow
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 4:17 PM UTC
How beautiful is the voice of my Beloved!
She makes music of words the most mundane.
When we need milk, its like the Siren's song:
She bids me to go and how can I refrain?
If perchance, the trash o'er flows the pail,
she commands I take it out and I comply.
Like Circe, her voice bewitches still,
and to resist her, I no longer try.
Some fools gainsay the power of her voice,
but I so love to hear her lyric line;
" Honey, will you wash the dishes, please?"
in tones so sweet how could a man decline?
Mar 9, 2012
Mar 9, 2012 at 8:12 AM UTC
The fervour of his lips, the ardent clasp of his hand
The shimmering, velvet, chocolate skin complements my linen-scape
Dulcet, earnest expressions of my beauty
Our statures cement as one
Happiness bewitches me
Surely I am now, finally, truly loved
Seasons pass
The invasion of psyche, the violation of flesh and bone
He is collectedly smooth and concise with his moves; I smell the menace, sense the forthcoming extremity of the moment
He is feral, I am broken
BUT, surely, I was finally, truly loved
The sun and the moon waltz
Shadows trail me; fear still a stride from being vanquished
Stillness and peace yearn me
I sink deep within, seeking fuel, consuming resilience, grasping hope and faith in repose
I am beyond
Surely I will finally be truly loved
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 1:03 PM UTC
Woe is me
Alas
again I have fallen for Maya!
succumbed this lifetime to the sway of
her ***** hips
and full red lips
like a vampire she
***** the life
of Spirit
bewitches the aspirant
with impermanent bliss
lurks in sultry, silken shadows
a serpent ready to ambush
Hari! Hari!
deliver Your devotees
from her glamorous talons
and sirens’ song
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 7:23 PM UTC
The persimmons hung gorgeously orange
And red off bare limbs
Nature’s ornaments in December-
They dropped, divine and ripe
Juicy one by one
On to the soft leaf litter
Out of loving arms and all naked
grey skies.
This was my daily treat
Landscapes of color and
That tree at the creek corner road
Stunning in fog
As I obeyed the stop sign at least once
Or twice every day
In the darkest time-brightest joy
Illuminating the fumy and spirituous,
wet northern
California days..
If I might bite that luscious fruit
Stolen from someones tree
Rest in the cool bay rain
Slumber me
Rock me In that sweet,
Fresh petricor that bewitches
Your mind before it washes your ripe skin.
I was the wild mustard then.
Everywhere at once in winter
Corrupting ****** soaking earth
Thunderous yellow
Rising for an all too brief season
Mistaking you for the sun
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 1:15 PM UTC
of suicide
you have a voice
inside your head
"you are worthless"
it has said
you have a life
but sleep instead
all is black and blue and red
you have a life
your daily bread
and yet you wish
that you were dead
***** has left you
they won't atone
it has cut you to the bone
you sit by your telephone
a prince, you sit a pauper's throne
death bewitches
the sighs make moans
you listen to the laughing crone
your grave is piled up with stones
now you truly are alone
you are young
with angst to spare
parents/ teachers in your hair
your bedroom becomes your lair
no peers or siblings haunt you there
all alone... it isn't fair
the sharp edges **** you
you're aware
but they lure due to despair
but you are not beyond repair!
i just want for you to know
your Creator loves you so
my poem's not a circus show
i have lived through some trials, woe
He's helped me when I was low
He made you... so don't let go!
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 6:35 PM UTC
the horizon always bewitches me
a seamless rolling of the stone, but a grand pronouncement
in my deluded eyes
the beginning, the end
the sun makes its exit, stage west
leaving crimson and gold reminders
of what treasure came before
white mushroom clouds descend
casually, forming cool gray walls
sending silent shafts dancing about
hot as any star
then comes the thunder, thumping
or cracking,
depending on its mood
in this sparkling spectacle,
there is no horizon for me to see
no place to jump off
no “they lived happily ever after”
only the power
of formless forces beyond my control
reminding me
for the first time,
again and again
each warm rain
will wash away mountains of memories
and mist my eyes a little more
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 6:30 PM UTC
Uno
She comes to my active memory.
Dos
She smiles looking at me.
Tres
She hugs me.
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 2:56 AM UTC
Slumbering
Zzzzz
A mis-shaped face gapes open at the mouth
Wakes slowly with one eye shut
And re-arranges its pace to form a unified
Front
Drool dangles
Drips lip to chin
Slurps back in where it belongs
Slides along a tongue and is swallowed
Hole
Nose niggles
Twitches
Bewitches the brain with imagined insects
Landing, lounging
Creeping up cavernous
Nostril nooks
Dream steps
Missed
Falling face-down onto metaphorical foreheads
While lying flat-backed
On the bed
Dozing drowsily
Napping
Not quite awake nor asleep
Quite aware
Neither here
Almost there
All most easy
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 12:46 PM UTC
Moonstruck Lunacy.
Oh ominous moon,
pale portent of danger,white luminous disk
suspended aloft
in a midnight-high bloom of enchantment.
Hear me.
Thick blanket of black,
shot thru with bright shiny cats-eyes of light
and coated in soft
unearthly glimmer this earthy-dark night,
shine out your
lover's lantern-like gleaming on harvested
fields which are
waiting like I am from moonstruck insanity.
Retrieve me.
Aided by dreaming
you invaded my heart, broke down the door
to any resistance,
now ecstasy hides in clandestine moments,
secreted from daylight,
delighting in dark with this stolen obsession.
Release me.
Oh wanton moon,
which with passion bewitches us, he, bidden
by lunacy-love,
will come hurrying soon to my arms again,
and forbidden sparkle
from his eyes shall light and set me aflame.
Relieve me.
Oh moonbeaming night it is you I shall blame.
Believe me.
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 5:57 AM UTC
BROTHER BLUEBOTTLE
A bluebottle emerges
from a hedge
like an expensive and
repulsive flying jewel.
It settles upon
my ring finger.
I wear it with
fear and delight.
Its iridescence
bewitches.
This, the first
bluebottle I'd ever seen.
I thought they grew
in hedges.
I had a lot to learn.
It buzzes about
in my brain
as if 50 years
had not passed.
Welcome back
brother bluebottle.
It's good to see you
still alive.
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 8:29 PM UTC
Whispering lies
Evil in disguise
A smile so vile
That bewitches and beguiles
Cold deceiver
Gullible receiver
Lifeless eyes
That never cry
Gleam only with hate
To those who dare to debate
Against her reign
Of endless pain
Living solely
For her and her only
This Queen of discipline
With a broken soul within
Secretly pleads
To be released
From her personal hell
From which she fell
Under his spell
Only to lose all sense of self
Desperate and alone
On her unwanted throne
She weeps alone
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 1:45 PM UTC
BROTHER BLUEBOTTLE
A bluebottle emerges
from a hedge
like an expensive and
repulsive flying jewel.
It settles upon
my ring finger.
I wear it with
fear and delight.
Its iridescence
bewitches.
This, the first
bluebottle I'd ever seen.
I thought they grew
in hedges.
I had a lot to learn.
It buzzes about
in my brain
as if 50 years
had not passed.
Welcome back
brother bluebottle.
It's good to see you
still alive.
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 5:25 PM UTC
I cannot boast about worldly wealth
Nor can I boast about physical health
But what I have none can take away
I prefer my freedom any day.
I am no King with a worldly crown
With both my feet firmly on the ground
I know that life is an illusion
So nought over me has dominion.
Around me people fight for riches
The chinking sound of gold bewitches
Content does not come from worldly gain
It comes when no desires remain.
I want nothing, so my heart is free
Unattached and just content to be
Very gently with nature I blend
All is my brother, sister and friend.
Together everything makes a whole
We are units of a single soul
We have all been made blind by the “fall”
There is but one god and god is all.
Open our inner eye…we will see
Our past, present and future to be
God is not an outside entity
It is the spark within you and me.
When every ego its job has done
Then the universal prize is won
Like a picture the artist has drawn
The ultimate masterpiece is born.
All the things the world has ever known
As a child into the adult grown
Lives need to be lived and then depart
All is made perfect and becomes art.
Apr 19, 2018
Apr 19, 2018 at 11:41 AM UTC
When I think about you, time stops.
When I hear your voice, that's the only sound that echoes through my mind.
When I see you, your beauty strikes me like a bullet I will catch.
The way your hair dances to the rhythm of your steps bewitches every fiber in my body.
The sparkle in your eyes is brighter than that of the brightest diamond.
Your smile lights up even the darkest of moments.
You don't know it, but you mean the world to me.
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 8:28 PM UTC